


The Edge

by LadyFogg



Series: Angel with a Shotgun [13]
Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer
Genre: Angst, Blood, Depression, F/M, Gore, Language, Self-Hatred, Self-Mutilation, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’ve been missing for three months, and despite all the signs saying you ran, John doesn’t believe any of them. With the help of Chas and Renee, he starts to piece together your whereabouts after your return from Hell. Meanwhile, you try to get a message to John to let him know what’s happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Fic Song - https://play.spotify.com/track/0SYzRL3k8JKTv5ekRb3NVW
> 
> Out of the 71 fics I've written in the past 2ish years, this is probably the best fic hands down. I am prouder than I think I've been for any piece of writing I've ever done.

John sits tucked into the corner of the couch, curled into a ball. Next to him on the coffee table, his breakfast from that morning remains untouched beside an empty bottle of whiskey. A chill from the drafty Mill house makes John shiver, forcing him to pull the blanket tighter around himself. His bones ache somewhat fiercely but when he tries to adjust, it only makes it worse. So he resorts to remaining as still as possible. Upstairs, he hears the sound of footsteps. His head shoots up hopefully, but it’s only Chas.

“Anything?” John asks, trying to mask his disappointment.

Chas shakes his head, sadness etched on his face. “No luck.”

“Bollocks,” John mutters, head falling to the backrest of the couch. “Lola, where are you?”

Three months. She had been missing for three whole months. No phone calls, no text messages, no emails, not even a damn note. She went out for an errand and never came back. That much he remembered. Her waking him from a nightmare with soft words and kisses before he was consumed by his exhaustion.

“John,” Chas says, descending the stairs. “You’re not supposed to be drinking.”

“He’s not,” Renee tells her husband, bringing over a plate of food from the kitchen. “He’s pouting that I emptied it.” She replaces the plate of cold food with the fresh one she just put together. “Try this, John. Hopefully you can keep it down.”

The smell makes John’s stomach bubble unpleasantly. He coughs violently, making his already sore body ache even more. “Not hungry,” he mumbles, trying not to make a face. Last thing he wants to do is insult her. She’s been relatively civil since she arrived a month ago to help out.

“You need to eat,” Renee insists.

“What I need is to find Lola,” John counters. “Chas, maybe--”

“John,” Chas says in a careful tone. “I know you may not want to hear this, but maybe it’s time to consider the fact that Lola may not want to be found.”

John glances between Chas and Renee, and he realizes they’ve probably been talking about this behind his back. He’s not an idiot. Of course he had considered it. Had thought so the second he woke nearly twelve hours after she left to find she hadn’t returned. Her words from the night before had rang in his ears over and over again.

_“Sometimes there isn't one reason. Sometimes it's all the little things. Sometimes you learn you're surrounded by toxic people, so you remove yourself from that environment. Sometimes the explanation is that simple.”_

Maybe he had grown naive over the years, but somehow, through the deep layers of self-hatred and loathing, a voice told him no, she hadn’t left. It didn’t really make sense. After everything they went through in Hell, she wouldn’t leave him without saying anything.

“We’ve been over this,” John says, glaring at his best friend. “I need to find her. She wouldn’t just leave like this.”

“She’s tried before,” Chas points out.

“That was--” John breaks into another cough. Renee hands him a glass of water, which he graciously accepts.

“What about Zed?” Renee offers. “She’s an angel now. I’m sure she can find Lola.”

“Not answering my summons,” John says bitterly, putting his cup on the table. “Been trying nearly every day.”

“Okay, then don’t you have magical ways to track people?” Renee asks.

“Won’t work,” Chas tells her. “Lola’s tattoos make it impossible for us to track her.”

“My girl is smart,” John says with pride. “When she started hunting things, she took precautions to make sure she couldn’t be magically found. Unfortunately, it makes our jobs harder.” He forces himself to sit up. “We haven’t checked her storage units. There’s one not too far from here.”

“You need rest,” Chas urges. “The doctor says--”

“I know what the bloody doctor said, mate,” John snaps.

“Then listen to him,” Chas says. “We will keep searching. You go get some sleep. You look like shit.”

“Are you sure?”

Renee sighs. “John, it won't do Lola any good if you work yourself to death. We will check the storage unit. You sleep. You didn’t get any last night.”

She's right. He hasn't gotten much sleep since Lola disappeared.

“Fine, I'll go lay down,” John declares. “Call me if anything comes up.” He shuffles away.

His bedroom is a mess. He’s never really been one for cleaning, but he at least made an effort when Lola was around. Now, clothes litter the floor and empty cigarette cartons decorate the dresser. John steps over the mess to place the blanket on the bed. He crosses to Lola’s dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out one of her t-shirts. He buries his face in the fabric, inhaling her scent. He wants to cry. He wants to scream.

“Never thought I see John Constantine so broken up over a bird.”

John shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to contain his anger. “What do you want?”

The ghost of Gary Lester leans against the wall next to the dresser, looking just as he did the day he died. Pale, emaciated and covered in blood. “Me?” he asks. “I don’t want anything. I’m not really here, remember?”

John tosses him a glare and slams the dresser closed. “Then get bent,” he snaps. “I have enough problems on my plate without worrying about my mental health.” He walks back to bed, carrying Lola’s shirt with him.

“Too late for that,” Gary says, eyeing John carefully. “You’re imagining the ghost of your dead friend. Clearly you’re not stable.”

John ignores him. He grabs Lola’s pillow and removes the other shirt he had wrapped around it. Her scent had left it days ago. Once that’s done, he collapses onto his bed.

“It’s times like this when your optimism goes, isn’t it John?” Gary asks, laying next to him now. “When you wallow in self pity and hatred. Of course she left you. There was no connection tying her to you, no reason for her to stick around. Did you really think she loved you? That someone like her would spend her life with a tosser like you? Especially after everything she went through, purely because she was close to you?”

“If you’re going to lay in her spot, you’re gonna have to do the things she does,” John says in a deadpanned voice. He turns his back on Gaz. “Reach over here and give us a special hand, would you?”

Gary snorts. “Still the same John,” he says, suddenly standing before the blond man. “Even to yourself you deflect with humor.”

“Beat it, Gaz,” John growls, glaring at the apparition. “I’m too tired for this.”

“It’s your fault I’m here,” Gary reminds him, kneeling down so he’s eye-level with John. “You have no one to blame but yourself. You’re a toxin. You infect everyone around you until they're forced to flee or they die. It’s inevitable. At least now that you’re alone, you can’t hurt anyone else.”

John hugs Lola’s pillow to his chest as he curls into a ball. He shuts his eyes and counts down from five and when he opens them again, Gary is gone. Shakes threaten to overtake his body, but he refuses to let them. He pulls the blanket up over his head, burying himself in darkness.

John dozes off shortly after.

_He finds himself in that suite back on the cruise. Lola lays on the bed in front of him, wearing nothing but that barely-there underwear he bought her once he decided to stay. She was right, he did need a vacation. Especially one filled with free food, alcohol and tons of sex._

_She’s practically glowing, her chest rising and falling rapidly the way it does when she’s ready to be fucked. She’s even eyeing him with that hungry expression as she beckons him forward with her finger. He vaguely remembers he needs to ask her something, but whatever it is can’t really be more important than making her moan, could it?_

_He yanks off his tie and shrugs out of his shirt, before crawling towards her. Her smile makes his heart thump wildly in his chest. When his mouth collides with hers, he can’t suppress the moan that escapes. She’s like putty beneath him, molding her body along his just the way he likes. Fuck he loves when she does that. He loves how she’ll try to pretend she’s not as horny as he is, but the second he touches her, she practically melts. He presses his hips down, grinding against hers._

_“Lola,” he moans._

_“John,” she moans back. “Fuck me, John.”_

_He’s all too happy to oblige. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? It definitely feels like it has been. He nuzzles her neck, finding the spot where his initials are and sucking on it greedily. He’s already marked her, but that feral part of him he unleashes around her takes hold. He needs to mark her more. Let anyone and everyone know that she’s his. Wait, she didn’t have his initials on the cruise..._

_“John?”_

_Still sucking greedily at her skin, he’s too far gone to respond. His hand wanders lower as he nudges her legs apart with his knees._

_“John!”_

_Lola doesn’t moan, she yells. It startles John and he draws away quickly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”_

_Her hands cup his face and suddenly she doesn’t look like she’s glowing with arousal anymore. She looks exhausted and terrified. The warmth he felt is suddenly gone, replaced by cold, undiluted fear._

_“John, you need to find me,” she urges. “Do you hear me? Baby, I didn’t leave you. I wouldn’t do that!”_

_“I don’t understand,” John says, momentarily confused. Of course she didn’t leave him. She’s right there with him in bed. Isn’t she?_

_“Wake up and find me, asshole!”_

John sits up so fast his head spins. His body protests angrily, muscles on fire from the sudden movement. Panting like he’s just completed a marathon, John runs a hand through his hair. He’s tangled in the bed sheets, drenched from head to toe in sweat. Struggling to free himself, he tries to get a hold of his fear, but a knock on his door puts him back on edge.

“What?” he calls.

Chas pokes his head in. “Sorry, did I wake you?” he asks.

John waves him off. “No, already awake,” he says, pushing the blanket to the foot of the bed. “Did you find anything in the unit?”

“No, it’s still the same from the werewolf incident,” Chas says. “But, on the way back we thought of a possible lead.”

John swings his legs off the side of the bed. “What is it?”

“Renee had the idea actually,” Chas says. “You and I looked at hospitals, but we didn’t check women’s health clinics. We figured, maybe that’s where Lola went on her errand. Renee called the one in the town where Lola was living before and a woman matching her description came in around the time you guys got back.”

“We sure it was her?” John asks, not daring to get his hopes up.

Chas nods excitedly. “One of the receptionists remembers the woman had weird tattoos.”

That’s all John needs to hear for his heart to swell. He forces himself to stand. “Let’s go,” he says.

The clinic is barely fifteen minutes away, but it might as well be hours. John can’t stop fidgeting in the backseat. He plays with his lighter incessantly, until Renee reaches from the front seat and takes it from him. He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed. When they pull up, he’s the first out of the car, but not before grabbing the item he needs out of his leather bag.

The waiting room is busy, but John ignores everyone and makes a beeline for check-in. There are two women sitting behind the desk. Both busy with patients so John is forced to wait.

“This is torture,” he says to Chas and Renee after only a few seconds.

“John, if you really think something happened, then we will find her,” Renee assures him. “But you need to relax.”

John gives her a wry smile. “You make it sound so easy,” he says snidely.

Renee studies him carefully and her eyes widen with surprise. “Wow,” she says. “You love her. I guess I never really thought about it when Chas told me about you two. But, you really truly love her.”

John rolls his eyes and turns back to the reception table. “Don’t act so surprised, love,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Despite what people think, I am capable of intense human emotions. I just prefer to smoke and drink them away rather than address them.”

Chas sucks his teeth and sighs. “The amount of times I had to listen to you and Lola go back and forth before you finally admitted your feelings was ridiculous,” he says. “You think John is stubborn, Lola is worse. Their arguing was basically foreplay. Speaking of which, they couldn’t keep it in their pants. It was tiring and disturbing.”

John smirks, turning to look at Renee over his shoulder. “Chas is still upset he caught us going at it on the couch that one time,” he says.

“It wasn’t one time, it was all the time,” Chas says.

The patients step away and John takes the opportunity to walk up to the desk. “Excuse me, miss,” he says politely to the blond receptionist. “My friend called earlier, I’m hoping you can help me.” He pulls out his phone and brings up a picture of him and Lola. “Have you seen this woman?”

The second receptionist, a stout woman with a frown, cuts off the blond woman before she can answer his question. “We have strict confidentiality protocols, sir,” she says.

John tries not to shout; the last thing he needs is to be stonewalled. “Please,” he begs, letting his desperation come through. “She’s my wife. She’s been missing for three months. This is my only lead. Can you both just look at the picture?”

The stout receptionist’s eyes go right to the wedding ring John had slipped on before entering the building. She shares a look with her co-worker before her expression softens. With a sigh, she glances at the phone. “She does look somewhat familiar. But we see many patients during the day. Amy, do you remember her?”

Amy, the blonde, stares at the photo for a moment. “Maybe,” she says slowly. “But you have a better memory than me, Pam.”

John sighs with frustration and Renee comes to stand next to him, a determined expression on her face. “I called about twenty minutes ago and the woman I spoke to seemed to be sure,” she says, looking at the two women. “Now you’re both telling us you don’t know?”

“John?” Chas asks.

John ignores him. “Is there another receptionist who we can ask? One who may have been here that day?” he asks.

Amy shakes her head and Pam slips on a pair of glasses. “Let me see that picture again,” she says.

John hands her the phone, tapping his foot nervously as she studies the photo. Renee echoes John’s frustrated sigh from before. Chas calls for them both, but again he is ignored.

Finally Pam nods. “Okay, yeah, I see the tattoos now, I remember her,” she says, handing the phone back to John. “Came in about three months ago for an appointment.”

“Can you tell us anything?” John asks, glad to be finally getting somewhere.

“Like, was she alone?” Renee follows up. “Was anyone following her?”

“John! Renee!” Chas snaps.

Annoyed, they both spin around to face him. “What is it?” Renee asks.

“Look around,” Chas urges.

John does as he’s told and realizes almost every woman in the waiting room is noticeably pregnant. He doesn’t think anything of it, until he catches the look of understanding Renee is giving her husband. When John glances back at Chas, his friend is raising his eyebrows at him. Seconds pass before it finally sinks in what Lola having an appointment at this place could actually mean. John does a slow spin back to Amy and Pam.

“Can you tell me why she came in?” he asks in a soft voice.

Pam sighs, but she seems to feel sorry for John because she gestures for Amy to use the computer. “What’s her name?” she asks.

“Lola,” John says. “Lola Constantine.” She very well could have used another name, but something tells him she hadn’t. He had heard her use it several times in the past, ever since their stint as Johnny and Lola. He did have a couple of her other aliases in his back pocket just in case that name didn’t work.

Amy types in the name and frowns. “I have a record, but there are no appointment notes,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

Pam clucks her tongue in anger. “How many times have we told these doctors to update their records?” she mutters. “Who was the physician? I need to have a talk with them.”

“Doctor Ballard,” Amy says.

“That's surprising. She's really good with her notes.”

They start to bicker and John is too tired and angry to listen. His head is spinning, his chest is tight and he wants to pull his hair out. Not only is his one lead not panning out, the thought that Lola may be pregnant is giving him heart palpitations. He, Chas and Renee huddle up.

“What do we do now?” Chas asks.

“Maybe I can make an appointment with this Doctor Ballard,” Renee suggests. “See if I can question her about that day. It’s worth a shot.”

“Sir?”

John turns back to the receptionist desk. Amy is gone, but Pam stands there looking conflicted. She glances around, then beckons him forward. John walks back over, feeling a sliver of hope.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I remember Mrs. Constantine’s phone call,” she says in a hushed voice. “I remember because it was so unusual. She needed a confirmation of pregnancy. She thought she was five months pregnant.”

Many words float through John’s mind. Most of them are swears and he has to hold himself back from shouting the obscenities at the top of his lungs. Instead, he sways on the spot. Thankfully, Chas and Renee are there to steady him. It’s all too much to take in and John struggles out of their grasp, bolting for the door of the clinic. He makes it all the way to the parking lot before throwing up next to the cab. Chas and Renee find him there dry-heaving.

“I take it you didn’t know,” Chas says.

John leans against the vehicle, trying to get a hold of himself. “No, no idea,” he responds, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “She never...she didn’t say...I know she felt off after Hell. I didn’t think…bloody fucking hell.”

While he has his freak out, Renee looks pensive. “I want to know why the record was gone,” she says. “Doesn’t make sense. Honestly, if you guys need me to make that appointment, I’ll do it.”

John isn’t listening. He’s too busy collapsing onto the curb. He puts his head between his knees, shuts his eyes and tries to stop himself from hyperventilating, or being sick again.

Chas sits next to him and pats him on the back. “You’ll be okay. Take deep breaths,” he instructs.

Renee sits on John’s other side. “You had unprotected sex,” she says bluntly. “Babies are a result. I’m sure this was explained to you before.”

John’s head shoots up so he can glare at her. However, across the parking lot something catches his eye. Lola’s car is parked all the way in the back. John gets to his feet and runs towards it, dodging around the other cars. Chas and Renee follow, but are forced to stop when a few cars get in between them and him.

The driver’s side of Lola’s car is unlocked. John slides in behind the wheel, looking around for any clues. There is a thin layer of dust on the dashboard and her keys are in the cup holder where she normally puts them. The car looks like it hasn’t been touched in days, probably since the day she parked it. There’s one more thing he needs to check to know for sure that she didn’t abandon the vehicle. John pops the trunk and gets out.

He knew it.

There’s her shotgun, laying right where she had tossed it before they went into the hotel. Chas and Renee finally are able to catch up and appear at his side.

“Find anything?” Chas asks.

John picks up Lola’s shotgun gingerly. “There’s no way she would have left this,” he tells them.

Chas nods. “I agree,” he says, craning his neck to look around. “Which means she was taken. This car is pretty far back; I doubt anyone would have seen anything. Or there would have been police reports.”

Renee follows her husband’s lead and starts to examine their surroundings. “I don’t see any cameras,” she says. “What do we do now?”

John puts the shotgun back and closes the trunk. “Back to the Mill house,” he says. “I don’t care what manner of dark things I need to summon; I will find her.”

“What should we do about her car?” Renee asks.

Not bearing the thought of leaving her stuff there, John says, “I’ll drive it back.”

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Chas asks.

John waves him off. “I’m fine, mate,” he says. “I’ll meet you back at the house.”

“John--” Chas begins.

“Chas, please,” John begs, fixing his friend with a pleading look. “I don’t have the energy to fight. I’ll be fine.” He climbs into the driver seat and starts the car. Once Chas and Renee step out of his way, he takes off in the direction of home.

He’s only a few seconds away from the clinic before he slams his hands on the steering wheel. “Lola,” he mutters under his breath. “Why didn’t you bloody say something? Bloody insane, stubborn woman. I would have...well I’m not sure what I would have done. I could have at least come with you.”

“What if she ran because she couldn’t bare the thought of carrying your child?” a voice asks next to him.

John sucks his teeth. “You still kicking around?” he asks.

Gary’s ghost sits in the passenger seat. “I’m just here to say the things you’re afraid to think,” he says with a shrug.

“No, you’re here because I’ve finally gone ‘round the bend,” John says.

“Or to remind you about that amazing romp right before she left,” Gary says. “Felt final, didn’t it? She must have known by that point. That’s why she was asking where you saw yourselves as a couple. All makes sense now. The nightmares, the dizziness, the throwing up. You knocked her up and now she’s run off to raise your child away from the likes of you.”

“She didn’t run away,” John snaps. “Something happened to her.”

“Come on, John,” Gary says, giving him a tired look. “You just want something to have happened to her. Because admitting she ran out on you is too hard. Why else would I be here?”

John shakes his head. “You’re not here. You’re not even real, Gaz,” he says.

“Doesn’t mean what I’m saying isn’t true,” Gary responds. “Or I guess more accurately, doesn’t mean what I’m saying isn’t what you think is true.”

“Lola didn’t leave me,” John insists. “Not now. Not after all we have been through. This…” He can barely get the word out. “...baby, if there is one, wouldn’t change that.”

“You told her you weren’t sure about kids,” Gary reminds him. “I know there is that part of you that doesn’t want them.”

“Well, yeah but--”

“But what?” Gary says. “Trying to convince yourself you can be different for her?”

John clenches his jaw, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“You’ll never change, John,” Gary says. “Isn’t that what you told Zed about me? People don’t change. At your core, you are who you are. And even if you manage to convince yourself that you’ve changed, there’s still the issue of you being cursed. Everyone around you dies. Hell, Lola already died once and you dragged her back from Heaven, only to bring her straight to Hell. With whatever child you have, it won’t be any different. Then again, you probably will die before they do. Solves that problem.”

John swerves to the side of the road and slams on the breaks. Gary’s ghost is gone and John is left shaking with rage.

“Not real,” he whispers to himself, shutting his eyes. He tries to focus on his breathing. “Not real, not real, not real.”

He had to push his insecurities as far back as he can. He can’t crack now. Not when Lola needs him the most. There’s more at stake than ever before.

Chas and Renee aren’t home when John gets in. He’s in desperate need of a shower so he takes the time to freshen himself up. He stalks through his room, tearing his dirty clothes off as he goes. The hot water is exactly what he needs to clear his head. He stands under the spray, meditating. He needs to regain his focus. His stomach growls and he remembers he hasn’t really eaten much, and whatever little he did eat was now on the ground outside the clinic.

He finishes washing up and walks back into the bedroom, kicking through the clothes on the floor for something relatively clean to wear. His foot hits something under the bed that makes a rustling sound.

Frowning, John bends down and pulls out a plastic bag. It looks like trash. How long has that been there?

John opens it, but curiosity becomes cold realization when he draws out the pregnancy test. The bag falls to the floor as he drops down onto the bed. He sits staring at the stick with unfocused eyes. When did she take it? Why did she have one already? He finds the box and realizes it was a two pack, however there’s only one stick and one package. Meaning she must have thought she was pregnant before Hell at some point.

“Oh Johnny boy, you’ve really fucked up this time,” he swears, hand curling around the stick. He now had his proof.

Lola is pregnant.

Determination sets in and he digs deep, finding the strength to get his ass in gear. He gets dressed and slips the test into his pocket.

An hour later, Chas and Renee find him bent over his table, books spread around a map and the remains of a sandwich on a plate off to the side.

“There you are,” John says impatiently. “You get lost, mate?”

“Did a sweep of local businesses around the clinic,” Chas says. “We thought one of them might have cameras that cover the parking lot.”

“And?” John asks.

Renee sighs. “And, they wouldn’t give us the footage. So we got help.”

Footsteps sound upstairs and John looks up. His face breaks into a large smile as Ritchie Simpson comes down the steps, laptop tucked under one arm and a bag slung over the other.

“Ritchie? How the bloody hell did they drag you into this, mate?” John asks, not even trying to mask his surprise.

“The truth, John,” Chas says.

“That your pregnant lover was snatched up and you can’t find her,” Ritchie says. “Just know, if there wasn’t a child involved, I wouldn’t be here.”

He comes to a stop next to John, who hesitates before extending his hand. “Well, whatever the reason, thank you, Ritchie,” he says. “This is our only lead. And if Lola really thought she was that far along, then we don’t have much time before the baby is born. And I…” He doesn’t really know where he’s going with his thought. He just knows he needs to find her. Fast.

Ritchie shakes his hand and gives him a knowing nod. “We’ll find her, John,” he promises. “Chas, where’s a good spot to set up?”

“Probably over here,” Chas says, leading Ritchie over to where the wireless router sits.

While they get to work setting up, John returns to his books. Renee studies him as she removes her jacket. “How are you doing?” she asks.

John forces a smile. “Just wonderful, love,” he says sarcastically. “Can’t you tell?”

“John, don’t give me that,” she says.

John slams the book he’s looking at and shoves it to the side. “What do you want me to say, Renee? Hm?” he asks, throwing his pen down and turning to her, hands on his hips. “That the woman I love, the woman that’s pregnant with my child, is missing? That there was foul play?” Renee looks like she’s going to say something, but he cuts her off. “You want me to blame myself? Because I do. I know somehow this is my fault. It has to be. I don’t know how, but I’m going to do everything in my power to figure it out. So please, I don’t need or want to talk about it. I am barely hanging on. ”

Renee looks past John at the mirror on the wall. John follows her gaze. He sees Lola standing there, staring at her reflection curiously. As he watches, she lifts her shirt to examine her stomach. John’s chest feels tight. He watches her gently touch her abdomen, and for the briefest moment, a smile passes across her face. Then she turns and walks out of frame.

“Once I manage to get it, it’s going to take awhile to go through the footage,” Ritchie says, bringing John back to reality. “I could use some help.”

“I’ll help you,” Renee offers, walking over to where Ritchie is set up.

Chas comes over to stand by John. “What do you need from me?” he asks.

“One of these books has a pagan tracking spell,” John says, waving to the table. “I’m thinking if I combine it with another, maybe I can work around Lola’s tattoos.”

Chas picks up the closest book while Ritchie and Renee begin their task. The foursome works in silence for awhile. John tries a couple of combined tracking spells, but none of them work. With each failed spell, he can feel himself grow more frustrated.

After his sixth attempt, John is weary. The spells mixed with his poor health are working against him. He tries to ignore it, to keep pushing through the pain and exhaustion. Once he nearly knocks over a candle onto the map however, Chas takes notice.

“Don’t push yourself too much,” his best friend tells him, placing a hand on John’s shoulder. “If you need to take a break, we have this. Go get more sleep. You need to recharge. Without the connection, you don’t have endless energy anymore.”

“Chas, you know I can’t stop,” John tells him. “This is the first solid lead in months.”

“Exactly,” Chas says. “And with me, Renee and Ritchie, we have a shot at finding her, but you can’t cast like this.”

John wants to argue, but when he tries, he’s hit with a coughing fit instead. His lungs are on fire and he feels himself on the verge of being sick. Thankfully he’s able to hold back. But it leaves him shaking. Chas gives him a pointed look.

“Alright ‘daddy’,” John mocks rolling his eyes. “I’ll go lay down.”

“Good,” Chas says. “Also, I told you and Lola never to call me that.”

John smirks fondly. “We did enjoy how annoyed you would get,” he comments.

Chas gives a wry smile. “You two are bad influences on each other,” he says, giving John a comforting pat on the back.

“Maybe,” John says, smirk widening. He stifles a yawn. Turning to Ritchie, he adds, “Come get me the second you find something.”

“Of course,” Ritchie says.

John gives him a thankful nod before dragging himself to the staircase. Without Lola, his room feels empty. He climbs into bed, pulling the pregnancy test out of his pocket. He honestly doesn’t know how he feels about the news. Fatherhood never was on his list. Marriage sure. He could get behind that; had even considered asking Lola at some point. Though she did enjoy referring to him as her “not-husband”.

“You must be loving this,” he growls, glaring up at the ceiling. Who knows if the Almighty is listening. It’s not going to stop John. “Making me your errand boy for your fallen angel, putting me and Lola through literal Hell. And now, right when we’re finally ready to be done--”

He coughs again. This time he can’t stop the sickness. He rushes to the bathroom, making it just in time to vomit up his dinner. It doesn’t stop. Blood comes next and bits of...something.

John shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at it. He flushes the toilet and hauls himself to his feet, shuffling over to the sink so he can rinse out his mouth. The water washes away the horrible taste and he splashes some on his face. He stares at his pale reflection, but he barely recognizes himself. Anger seizes him and before he can stop himself, he punches the mirror. The pain from the glass is actually comforting. He washes out the wounds, and wipes away the blood impatiently. Back in his room, he crawls into bed. He places the pregnancy test on the nightstand before curling around Lola’s pillow once more. His eyelids begin to grow heavy and eventually he drifts off the sleep.

_John finds himself in a long hallway. Darkness is closing in around him, but there’s a light at the end. He runs to it, fully expecting the light to disappear. But it doesn’t. John stands in Lola’s old apartment. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, and in bed is him and Lola. They are tangled together in her sheets, basking in the afterglow of their latest sexual encounter._

_John watches them kiss leisurely, heart aching. He remembers this. After he took the darkness into himself, his memories with Lola never really recovered. Sometimes they still get mixed up or he forgets certain details. Except for this one. This one he remembers very clearly, because this was the first time he realized just how deep his feelings for her went._

_“I’m assuming you have to take off,” Lola says between kisses._

_“Aye, Chas is waiting,” John says, nibbling along her chin._

_Lola pouts, fingers tracing the tattoo on his arm. “Boo,” she says. “I see how it is. Gotta put time in with the boyfriend before me.”_

_John chuckles, pushing himself up so he looms over her. “Wish it were that simple,” he says. “But duty calls. We have a new case and some leads on the Rising Darkness I need to follow up on.” He smiles down at her. She looks so damn beautiful. The sunlight streams in through her large windows, making her look almost angelic. There is no way he deserves her._

_“But bed,” she whines, wrapping her legs around his waist. The action brings her folds to his cock. She’s still wet from their previous round of lovemaking and it’s enough to get John swelling with need._

_He groans, going back for another kiss, which she happily returns. They remain that way for a few more minutes, kissing as if they have all the time in the world. If they only know._

_Eventually, John breaks the kiss again. “I really do have to go,” he tells her, despite leaning into the lips pressed to his neck._

_“I suppose I can let you,” she grins. “When will you be back?”_

_“Not sure,” John tells her, reluctantly moving to sit. She lets him this time. “Why? You gonna miss me, love?”_

_She gives a snort and an eye roll. “You wish, blondie,” she tells him._

_They sit next to each other on the edge of the bed, an awkward silence falling over them. There was always awkwardness after as they each tried to find the right words. Both too stubborn to admit what they have is more than just casual sex._

_John bends down to grab his pants from the floor, pulling out his cigarettes and lighter. He lights up as she gets to her feet, stretching luxuriously. John watches her hungrily, closing his lighter with a flick and dropping it on the bed next to him._

_“C’mere you,” he says, pulling her so she’s straddling his lap._

_She gives him a playful smirk, hand stroking his cheek. John removes the cigarette from his mouth, blowing the smoke to the side before going in for another kiss._

_Present day John can’t bare to watch anymore. They look so much younger. So much happier. But when he turns away, he finds himself face-to-face with Lola. Except this time, she no longer looks happy. It’s just like before. She looks tired and scared._

_“Wake up!” she demands. “John Constantine, wake up right NOW!”_

John sits up with a yell, heart beating so hard in his chest it almost hurts. The dream must have been more vivid than he realized because he can still see Lola’s image before him. She stands at the foot of his bed wearing a simple, white cotton dress. He rubs his eyes furiously but the image doesn’t go away.

“John, thank god!” she says.

It’s then that John realizes that he’s not still dreaming. She’s actually standing there at the foot of the bed. “Lola?” he asks.

“Took me forever to finally get through,” she says.

John scrambles out of bed. He wants to throw his arms around her, until he realizes it’s a bilocation spell. She’s not really there with him.  

“Love, where are you?” John asks.

“I don’t fucking know!” she angrily exclaims. “But I know who took me. They call themselves the Resurrection Crusade.”

“What do they want?” John asks.

Lola looks at him worriedly, her hand drifting to her swollen midsection. “Some cult bullshit,” she says. “They think this kid is a prophesized child call the Magus. I haven’t been able to get much else. They attacked Zed before they snatched me. Took one of her feathers.”

“Shit, that’s why she hasn’t responded,” John swears. “These Crusade bastards are the ones that came after her when she was alive.”

“Fuck, John, you have to find me,” Lola says. “Once this baby is born, they’re going to kill me.”

“I won’t let that happen,” John promises.

“I wanted to tell you about the baby,” she says. “But I wanted to be sure first.”

“Don’t worry about that,” John says. “Can you tell me anything about where you are?”

“No, but in twenty minutes, scry for me,” she says.

“Lola, I’ve tried. It won’t work,” John says.

“In twenty minutes it will,” Lola assures him. “I have to go. If I keep this projection going, I’ll drain all my energy. Took me this long to be able to get this far.”

“Don’t,” John pleads.

Lola reaches for him. John lets his hand hover over hers, trying to pretend he can actually feel her skin. “We’ll see each other soon,” she assures him. “I trust you. Plus, I waddle now. No way you can pass up the opportunity to tease me about that.”

John chuckles through the tears he’s holding back. “Never,” he chokes out. “You look stunning.”

Her image starts to fade. “I love you,” she tells him.

“I love you too.”

Her smile is heartbreaking. As soon as she’s gone, John runs both hands through his hair. It’s like every sense is on overdrive. He needs her DNA for scrying. Grabbing the pregnancy test, he marches out of the room. He nearly runs into Chas on the stairs.

“Was just coming to get you,” his friend says, letting him pass. “They found footage of Lola.”

“She just came to me,” John says, hurrying to grab his scrying materials before heading over to where his map still was spread out. “Bilocation. Doesn’t know where she is, but says the Resurrection Crusade snatched her up.”

“The crazy cult Zed escaped from?” Chas asks. “Jesus Christ, what for?”

“They want the baby,” John tells him, rustling through the mess on the table. “Thinks it’s some being called the Magus. Where is that bloody pendant?”

“You guys need to look at this,” Renee interrupts, waving them over to where her and Ritchie are still hard at work.

John and Chas head over to look at what they found.

It’s footage of the parking lot, and at first John doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “What am I supposed to be seeing?” he asks.

“Don’t look at the cars,” Ritchie tells him. “Look behind the clinic.”

Sure enough, he sees a van parked near the rear door. As he watches, a man in scrubs and a blonde woman walk out. There’s Lola between them. She must be unconscious because she’s not struggling or putting up a fight. John watches as two more men get out of the van to help. Then the video skips and the van is gone.

“What happened?” Chas asks. “Why did the footage skip?”

“Electrical malfunction,” Ritchie says. “A very convenient one.”

“A magical one,” John says. “If I’m right, that blonde woman is the one we met today. Amy.” He comes to a sudden realization that has him running both hands through his hair. “Which means we need to act fast. If she’s in on it--”

“Then she’s going to warn them we were asking questions,” Renee finishes.

“John, if she gets to them first, they could try move Lola,” Ritchie says.

John shakes his head. “No, no they wouldn’t do that,” he says. “She’s close to giving birth. They wouldn’t risk it. But they could up whatever security they have. We need to act fast.”

“We don’t even know where they are,” Chas reminds him.

John checks his watch. It’s been more than twenty minutes since his encounter with Lola. He marches back to the table and finds Liv’s pendant inside one of the books he had tossed aside. He’s never had much luck with it in the past, but desperate times calls for desperate measures. He clutches it with the pregnancy test, shutting his eyes tightly.

“Listen, Almighty, you great big tosser,” he snaps. “I’ve never asked you for anything, but you owe me! Whatever Lola is trying to do, make it work! Help me find her!” He concentrates hard on Lola’s face, on the sound of her voice and her scent. He lets the memories of their time together cloud his mind, trying to focus and sense her energy. A sharp pain in his hand barely makes him flinch. His blood slides down the chain and drips onto the map.

John opens his eyes and watches as the drops sit for a moment. Just when he begins to worry, they start to move. Grinning, John watches the drops travel across the map and converge onto one spot. “I don’t know what you did, Lola, but there’s my clever girl,” he says, he pauses and glances skyward. “And I guess thank you too.”

“Did you just yell at God?” Renee asks. She either sounds appalled or impressed. He’s not sure which.

John slams his hand on the table excitedly, ignoring her question. He lets go of the pendant and pregnancy test to reach for his trenchcoat.

“What’s the plan?” Ritchie asks.

“Other than storming the place with every weapon imaginable,” Chas adds.

“We need to get inside,” John says. “Get passed security and find Lola. Zed told me a few things about this cult and I think I have a plan.”

“You think?” Renee asks.

John’s face breaks into a large smile and he extends his hand to Chas. “Give me your phone,” he says. “We’re going to need some more help.”

\---

**THREE MONTHS EARLIER**

“This is insane,” you say to Zed as you fidget in your seat. “How did my life end up here?”

The waiting room is fairly empty and the people who are there aren’t saying much. The two receptionists speak softly to each other, until the scowling one wanders away to focus on other duties.

“I’ll say,” Zed responds. “I’m an angel sitting in the waiting room with my former lover’s current pregnant lover.”

“When you put it that way, it somehow sounds even weirder,” you say. “But, good to know you guys were actually lovers. Finally have the answer to that question.”

Zed shoots you a smile. “Only a couple of times,” she admits. “By the way, he’s going to flip out once he hears the news.”

“Oh, guaranteed,” you grin. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he just turns and books it.” You check the clock on the wall for probably the twentieth time since you sat down.

“What’s the matter?” Zed asks.

“Feel like I’ve been waiting here forever,” you say. “Wonder what’s been taking so long. I don’t want John to get worried if he wakes up and I’m not back yet.”

As if on cue, Amy comes over to where you sit. “Lola Constantine?”

You take a deep breath before standing and following her through the door to your right. Zed is gone, but you know she’s watching and it helps comfort you.

“Constantine is an interesting last name,” Amy comments, leading you to one of the rooms at the end of the hall.

“It’s my husband’s,” you tell her. You hate small talk, especially when you’re preoccupied with much more important matters. She gestures to one of the rooms and you enter. Zed is already there waiting for you.

“Doctor Fey will be in shortly,” Amy says.

“Oh, is Doctor Ballard not available?” you ask. “She typically does my gynecological examines.”

“Doctor Fey is a great physician,” Amy assures you. “He’ll be in shortly.” She closes the door as she leaves.

“Should I be worried she didn’t answer my question?” you ask Zed.

The angel frowns. “She could just be bad with people,” she says.

“It’s not like the main function of her job or anything,” you mutter. You sit on the examination table with a sigh. “So, how long have you known this was going to happen? Did you know before I died?”

Zed looks sheepish.

“Awesome,” you say angrily. “So the anger afterwards and the whole worrying about John using the connection, that was all for show?”

“Not all of it,” Zed says. “I was foolishly hoping he had learned his lesson. However, the connection I didn’t anticipate.”

“And now it’s gone,” you sigh. “Probably for the best. Can you imagine John going through childbirth with me?”

Zed laughs and you crack a smile. “I would pay to see that,” she says.

There’s a knock on the door and you’re brought crashing back to reality. The door opens and Doctor Fey enters. He’s a tall man with thick eyebrows and a crooked smile. “Hello, Mrs. Constantine,” he says. “I’m Doctor Fey.”

You’re sure his smile is supposed to be reassuring but for some reason, it puts you on edge. It doesn’t help when you catch a look at the expression on Zed’s face.

“Lola, you need to leave,” she says in a careful tone.

You try not to react. The last thing you want is to cause a scene. Instead, you fix the doctor with a stern look. “Where’s Doctor Ballard?” you ask.

“Oh she’s tied up with patients,” Doctor Fey says. “But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

That’s not the answer you were looking for. “Yeah, see, I would feel more comfortable if you got a female doctor in here,” you say. “Or a nurse. I’m not comfortable with a male doctor.”

He gives a condescending chuckle and sits on the stool, wheeling over to you. “I can assure you, I am highly qualified,” he says.

You could give a damn about his qualifications, especially when your literal guardian angel just told you to get out of that place. The fluttering in your stomach starts to happen rapidly, making you jump and instinctively touch your midsection. Something isn’t right, and it seems like the baby knows.

Doctor Fey notices immediately. “Oh, are you feeling movement?” he asks. “May I?” He reaches for you.

You jerk away, hands raised in defense. “Not if you don’t want your hand broken,” you say. “I don’t like to be touched. Please, go get a female doctor.”

Doctor Fey ignores you and stands, moving towards the counter. He grabs a pair of gloves and takes time to meticulously put them on.

“Lola, I’ll protect you,” Zed says. “But you need to leave right now.”

“Why?” you whisper.

“What was that?” The doctor asks, turning back towards you.

“Why aren’t you getting a female like I requested?” you ask icily.

Doctor Fey studies you through narrowed eyes, gloved hands clasped tightly. “Mrs. Constantine, there’s no need to be hostile,” he eventually says. “Interesting last name. Your husband’s right?”

Alarm bells are practically ringing in your ears. You slowly get to your feet. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, there is plenty of reason to be hostile,” you tell him. “An unknown male doctor entered my room with no female nurse to accompany him. Plus, he’s ignoring my obvious discomfort. I’ll be going now.”

Doctor Fey takes a step in front of the door to block your path. “Please, I meant no disrespect,” he says, holding his hand up to you. Seriously, you want to break this guy’s hand. “You seem tense.”

“I am tense.”

“Pregnancy will do that to you,” he says.

“So will being trapped in a room with a stranger who won’t get out of your way,” you tell him. “I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not.”

You feel your magic flare and you light your hands on fire instantly. You expect him to be shocked. Hell, you were even hoping for a scream. Neither happens. He actually looks bored. He pushes the sleeves of his white coat back and it’s then that you see a bracelet around his left wrist. It glows and then suddenly, it’s like all the energy has been drained from you. You sway on the spot, fire extinguishing on its own as you slump against the examination table.

“Who are you?” you growl. “What do you want from me?”

Zed moves to stand next to you, and it feels like a shield of protection has separated you from the so-called doctor. Your stomach is tingling like crazy. Whatever is wrong with this man, the baby can sense it and doesn’t like it one bit.

Fey tilts his head to the side and then suddenly he’s staring right at Zed. “Ahh, there you are, Mary.”

It feels like a bucket of ice cold water has been dumped over your head. Bracing yourself on the table to keep from collapsing, you take a few steps back, putting as much distance between you and him as you can manage. Zed’s face hardens and she steps in front of you.

“How did you know I was here?” she asks.

“Your father may have known a lot, but not nearly as much as I do,” Fey says, dropping the act entirely. “What? No hug for your uncle?”

“You’re not my uncle,” Zed snaps. “So what, you’re running things now? Is that it?”

“I always told your father he was wrong about you,” Fey says. “He was so sure you would be the one to bring the chosen one into this world. Even when you ran away, he still held onto that foolish notion. But I knew better. I knew who we really needed to wait for. The Magus. See, your father didn’t have the connection with the other side that I have.”

Your energy is draining at an alarming rate and you can barely stand. “Stop,” you gasp, clutching your stomach. “The baby--”

“Will be fine, Mrs. Constantine. No worries,” Fey says. “After all, he’s the one we’re here for. Now stand aside, Mary. You may be an angel, but angels have rules. You can’t intervene.”

He tries to sidestep her, but Zed’s hand shoots out to grab him by the neck. She hoists him off his feet. “They can under special circumstances,” she growls, wings spread magnificently. She looks every bit the terrifying celestial being she is. “And I’ve never been one for rules.”

Fey narrows his eyes and you see the hand with the bracelet reach out.

“Zed, your feathers!” you exclaim.

But it’s too late. There’s a horrible ripping sound and suddenly Zed is stumbling backwards, letting Fey go as her wings collapse and she falls to her knees. “How…?”

“As I said, connections to the other side,” Fey tells her, twirling her feather. “Now, Mrs. Constantine--” He looks towards you, only to catch a bedpan to the face. Apparently angel feathers don’t work against large chunks of metal. Stunned, Fey hits the wall.

“LOLA, RUN!” Zed shouts.

You make a beeline for the door, but as you yank it open, Amy stands in your way. The next thing you know, everything goes dark.

\---

**PRESENT DAY**

When you open your eyes it’s disorienting. Bilocation always throws you for a loop. It’s worse now because your energy is so low. The room spins a little and you try to remain as still as possible until the dizziness passes.

Sitting up, you stretch your sore limbs. You’ve been in bed for too long, but there really is no where else to be. The baby kicks wildly and you rub soothing circles on your stomach. “I know, you hate when I use magic,” you say. “But I need to get us out of here, and like it or not your dad is our only hope.”

You sit in a small room with nothing but a bed and small window. It’s the same room you woke up in months ago. There were more pieces of furniture, but they were removed when you broke them and tried to make weapons. You managed to stab at least three cult members before they took everything away. You get multiple meals a day, but that’s about it. They tried to send some “doctors” in to examine you, but just like the cult members, you attacked every one of them. Finally, visitors stopped coming. You didn’t know if they didn’t want to be bothered, couldn’t afford to use more magic on you, or were too scared. Either way, you saw no one but the person who delivered your meals.

They must have something close to drain your energy, because you haven’t been able to use much magic. On occasion, you have been able to dream jump to John, trying to get him messages. But it’s not as easy as you thought it would be. Half the time you can’t hold onto John’s dream, or it doesn’t last long enough for you to tell him anything.

Bilocation was your last resort, so you’re glad it worked. He didn’t seem shocked about the baby. He must have pieced it together, or found the pregnancy test. You wish you could have been the one to tell him. You had it all planned out too. Well, not really planned out. More like just buying him a really expensive bottle of scotch and a pack of cigs before being like “So, yeah…”

You rub your stomach as your child kicks again. “He’ll come for us,” you assure her. “Hopefully before you’re born.” Okay, you’re trying to reassure yourself more, but it helps to talk to the baby.

The days just blend together at this point. You don’t know exactly how far along you are, but you can tell something is going to happen soon. You can just sense it. You feel huge, your stomach a constant reminder of what’s on the horizon.

After meditating, you feel some of your energy return. You don’t have a great concept of time, but you think it’s been about twenty minutes. Your strength rune takes two tries to activate, but when it finally does, you know it won’t last for very long. You take a deep breath and punch the window. It shatters loudly and you ignore the pain to seize a large chunk of glass. Pushing your sleeve up, you find the anti-scrying sigil on your left shoulder and clench your jaw.

The sharp, burning sting of the glass is nothing compared to werewolf claws you endured. You work through it as you cut your tattoo until your shoulder is a bloody mess and the sigil shielding you is gone. Footsteps hurry towards your room and the door gets flung open.

Fey stands framed in the doorway, surrounded by two guards. “You stupid bitch!” he snaps, seeing you sitting there covered in blood. “What did you do?!”

“Whoops,” you say in the most deadpanned voice you can muster.

The two guards push past Fey and come at you. As one leans in to reach for your arm, you seize his instead and yank him forward, stabbing him the neck with the chunk of glass. He screams when you pull it out, rounding on the second guard and slashing him across the cheek.

Fey rushes in, as you knew he would, and you scramble to get away from the three men. Unfortunately, you move much slower than you used to. He catches you easily, and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that the blood is coming from your arm. You make a grab for the feather, but Fey knocks your hand out of the way. He grabs your wrist as you try to stab him with the glass. Yanking your weapon away, he pushes you. Your balance is lost and you tumble to the floor, catching yourself on your hands and knees at the last second.

Two more guards arrive and Fey snaps his fingers at them. “You! Get her to the infirmary and clean her up,” he bellows at one. At the other, he gestures towards the injured guards. “Take care of these two!”

The guard ordered to seize you marches past Fey. He grabs your uninjured arm and you let him hoist you to your feet. Your muscles protest and your back aches, but you don’t show any signs of this. As you are dragged by him, Fey stops you, grabbing your chin roughly. “If you tried to hurt him--”

You spit in his face. “I’m having a girl, you fucking asshole,” you snap. “And when her father comes, we’re going to have so much fun killing you.”

He shoves you away from him and the guard drags you to the infirmary.

The man stays in the room with you as one of the cult members stitches up your arm. Your baby is shifting around, but she doesn’t seem distressed by your pain or the slight loss of blood. You didn’t think she would. She’s really been the only one to talk to since you’ve been captured and some part of you feels like there’s an understanding between you two. Which you know sounds crazy since she’s not even born yet. But she’s been the one source of comfort throughout the past few months, giving you the strength you need not to break down.

Once your arm is clean and dressed, the guard handcuffs you to the bed. You could probably phase out of the cuffs, but you need to save what little energy you have left. Now that you’re secured, the cult member and guard exit the room. There’s nothing you can do at this point but lay there and wait...again.

After the first hour, exhaustion sets in. You try be alert, not knowing how far away you are from the Mill house or how long it will take for John to get to you. Despite your best efforts, you find yourself falling asleep. So you give in, hands cradling your stomach protectively.

Hours pass and you’re not disturbed. No one visits. When you finally awaken, your arm is throbbing with pain and you feel a stab of hunger. After what you did to Fey’s guards, you doubt you’re getting any meals. Which is fine because you don’t feel like eating. Aside from the hunger, your stomach feels tight, tighter than it’s ever been and you can’t seem to get comfortable.

Eventually, you hear footsteps in the hallway. Two sets from the sound of it, moving closer and closer to your room.

Alert now, you sit very still, eyes trained on the door. The footsteps stop right outside and there are hushed voices, making you nervous. If they're finally coming to finish you off, there is nothing you can use as a weapon. You’re runes are also useless so magic wise, you’re shit out of luck. When the door opens, you’re a little startled to see a nun slip into the room. You’re even more surprised that she’s alone.

She hurries to close the door behind her before turning to look at you. “Lola?” she asks.

“Who are you?” you demand. “Why are you here?”

The nun studies you carefully and takes a few steps in your direction. “John sent me,” she says.

You study her right back. Does John know a nun? There does seem to be something familiar about her. Then it clicks. “Wait,” you frown, struggling to sit up. “Are you Anne Marie?”

Anne Marie Flynn nods, a small smile on her face. “John’s told you about me?” When you nod back she adds, “Well, he’s left out one very important detail about you.” Her eyes fall on your large stomach.

You give a snort. “Yeah, figures he would,” you say. “To be fair, I never got a chance to tell him himself.”

Anne Marie sighs, pressing her hand to her forehead as if warding of a headache. Which, if she’s friends with John, she mostly likely is. “Of all the stunts that bloody wanker has pulled over the years,” she mutters under her breath.

You chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t think impregnating me while being trapped in Hell is on top of that list,” you say. “I’d say it’s definitely top twenty though.”

Anne Marie seems to realize her tone and gives you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, this isn’t about John, for once,” she says, crossing the room to your side.

“Well, it still kind of is,” you say. “This is his kid after all.”

“Are you okay?” Anne Marie asks, her gaze falling to your arm. “Have they hurt you?”

“No, this was my doing. Cut my sigil so John could track me,” you tell her, shoving the blanket away. “Not that I haven’t given them reason to hurt me. I’ve attacked pretty much everyone they’ve sent after me. I’m only alive right now because they need me to be. Some stupid shit about me birthing ‘the Magus’.”

“The Magus? That’s what they are calling the baby?” Anne Marie questions. She grabs a fresh bandage and rubbing alcohol from the counter and carries them over. “I’ve read stories about the Magus. Some supposed powerful being that’s supposed to bring balance to magic. But they’re just that, stories. A fairy tale passed around the magical community. There’s no such thing as ‘the Magus’.”

“See you know that and I know that. These fucking crazy people don’t. It’s all bullshit,” you say. “I’m sure there will be something special with this child, but not what they think.” At Anne Marie’s quizzical look you add, “Supposedly I’m ‘touched  by Heaven’. And we were in Hell when I got pregnant.”

“A child touched by Heaven that was conceived in Hell will definitely be special,” Anne Marie agrees, removing your bloody bandage to check your stitches. “I can see how that would fall into their beliefs.”

“Yeah, but the Magus is male according to this stupid cult,” you tell her as she disinfects your wound again. “And these fuckers don’t believe me everytime I say I’m having a girl.”

“How do you know it’s a girl? Did they do an ultrasound?” Anne Marie asks, replacing your bandage with a clean one.

“No, I just know,” you say. The last thing you want to do is go into detail about your time in Heaven. “I wouldn’t let them anywhere near me with anything medical.” You knew it was a dangerous move, but there was no way you were letting anyone of those crazies close to you or your daughter. “I have no idea if she’s even healthy.” You try to hold back but your hormones are working against you and the tears escape.

“They did say you wouldn’t let them examine you,” Anne Marie says.

“How did you get in?” you ask.

“When you wear a nun’s habit and speak about visions of their base of operations, you can infiltrate any cult,” Anne Marie says with a smirk. Finished changing your bandage, she motions towards your stomach. “May I?”

“How do I know John really sent you?” you ask, wiping the tears away impatiently.

Anne Marie smiles. “He said you’d be suspicious,” she tells you, reaching into her pocket. “He also said you have a tendency to punch people.”

At that you chuckle. “Yeah, I do,” you say. “John would know better than anyone.”

Anne Marie draws her hand out of her pocket and extends it to you. “Nearly had a heart attack when he gave this to me, until I realized it was fake,” she says.

You smile as you take the engagement ring from her. “Cruise, water god,” you explain. “The captain and a couple were sacrificing married couples. John and I stopped them. Seems so long ago.” You slip the ring on and lay back down, letting Anne Marie carefully draw up your dress.

“I’d say at the very least thirty-two weeks, maybe more,” Anne Marie says, gentle hands touching your stomach. The baby wiggles excitedly, almost as if she knows she’s around someone she can trust. “Whoa, movement is great. She’s definitely a wiggler.”

“Yeah, usually,” you say. “But she’s been still today.”

“That’s most likely because you’re close to delivery,” Anne Marie says. “Any spotting?”

“A little this morning,” you say.

“Well, her head is down low, so she’s in position, which is good,” Anne Marie announces. “I don't feel an abnormalities.”

“How are we getting out here?” you ask.

“John’s working on that,” Anne Marie answers. “Security is tight. I wasn’t able to bring in a phone. We were able to catch one of the members on their way in. Jumped him and stole his clothes. Our friend Ritchie was able to dress as him and get in with me. He’s standing outside now to keep an eye out. We were supposed to disable their security and then find you while the others snuck in through another entrance.”

“Brought the fucking cavalry, didn’t he?” you ask.

Anne Marie smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that tone from John before,” she says. “Can you walk?”

You nod and she lowers your dress before helping you to stand. “We need to search for Zed,” you say. “Fey stole her feather. Her father originally ran this cult and thought she would birth the ‘chosen one’. There’s no way Fey would keep her anywhere else. I know he has her.”

You hear the knob turn and suddenly a man with glasses and  wild hair barges in through the door. He closes it behind him. “We need to get going. I heard yelling down the hall. I think the others might have been spotted,” Ritchie says to Anne Marie. His eyes fall on you and he takes a step in your direction. “Lola, I’m Ritchie. We’re here to get you out.”

“So I heard,” you say impatiently. “What are we waiting for?”

“She’s good to go,” Anne Marie assures Ritchie. To you she says, “John wasn’t sure what state you’d be in. We were supposed to try to get you out if you were mobile.”

“Zed first,” you tell them. “She’s an angel, but without that feather she’s grounded here. She can still die.”

“Our priority is getting you and the baby out,” Anne Marie says. “Let John and the others find Zed. We have to go now.”

Ritchie gets to the door and peeks out. When he declares it safe, you and Anne Marie follow him into the hall. Just as he said, you can hear commotion at one end of the compound. With Ritchie in the lead and Anne Marie behind you, the three of you move in the opposite of the commotion. The sound of gunshots and shouting reaches your ears, but you force yourself to keep moving forward. However, you don’t get far when a searing pain hits you out of nowhere. It starts at your lower back and comes around to your abdomen. It’s enough to stop you in your tracks and make you double over.

SHIT.

“Oh no,” you exclaim, stopping to lean against the wall. “Shit. No, no, no, no, not now.”

“We need to keep moving,” Ritchie hisses.

Anne Marie waves an impatient hand at him. “Are you having contractions?” she asks you.

You nod frantically. You haven’t had any fake ones through the pregnancy, and given how far along you are, you can almost guarantee this is the real thing. “Goddamn it, kid!” you snap. “You have your father’s timing: poor and at the most inconvenient time for everyone.”

“Breathe,” Anne Marie instructs, as Ritchie keeps looking around frantically. “Take my hand. Try to walk through it. Ritchie, make yourself useful!”

Ritchie comes to your other side and between the both of them, you’re able to keep going. The more steps you take, the more the pain recedes and you take a few deep breaths. Unfortunately, when you round the corner of the hallway, you find yourself facing a crowd of people.

Fey stands there, surrounded by cult members wearing ceremonial robes.

“Perfect timing,” he says. “Did you two really think that would work?”

“Sort of,” Ritchie mutters. You hear Anne Marie praying under her breath.

Fey studies you. “I should have realized what the cut on your arm meant,” he says. “I was told your tattoos kept you from being tracked. It worked to our advantage of course. Didn’t think you would mutilate yourself.”

“You obviously don’t know what lengths a mother would go through to protect her child,” you growl.

“This child isn’t yours!” Fey snaps. “He belongs to the Crusade!”

“Um, I beg to differ,” you snap back. “My uterus, my egg, my kid!”

“For now,” Fey says. “You won’t matter once he’s born.”

“Oh go suck satan’s dick, asshole!” you spit. “And for the last time, I’m having a girl, you pathetic--” Your snark is cut off when another contraction hits you, making your knees buckle. Anne Marie and Ritchie struggle to keep you from collapsing.

The cult members surround you and a sinister smile crosses Fey’s face. “Right on schedule,” he says. He pushes his sleeve back so you can see his bracelet. It glows and you feel your energy drain again. “Now, if you would follow me.”

You don’t have a choice. You and your rescuers are severely outnumbered. They give you apologetic looks and you grit your teeth, following Fey. Around his neck, Zed’s feather sways mockingly. If you could just snatch it away from him, he wouldn’t be protected. The only reason the cult is following him is because of that damn feather.

Fey leads you to a set of double doors. Through them is a large chamber with candles and a black altar directly in the center. In the corner of the room, you see Zed on the ground, looking grey and barely moving. Her eyes shift to yours and grow wide with fear, she reaches feebly for you. Fey walks towards the altar.

“Zed…” you whisper, choking back a sob.

“What have you done to her?” Anne Marie snaps, letting you go to march after Fey. “How dare you?! She is an angel of the Lord!”

Fey waves his hand, sending Anne Marie flying across the room. She hits the wall next to Zed and slumps onto the ground, stunned.

“Anne Marie!” Ritchie yells, ducking out from under your arm. You try to reach for him, but he’s also sent flying.

The cult members have formed a circle around you and Fey, blocking your view of John’s friends. Another contraction comes, this one successfully knocking you to your knees. Fey takes advantage, a few cult members seizing you and forcing you back to your feet, dragging you towards the altar.

You fight them every step of the way. Your legs eventually give out and the cult members dump you onto the altar

Fey kneels in front of a large inverted cross and it finally hits you exactly who he’s been praying to.

“The fucking First,” you mutter.

Of course. He probably gave Fey the bracelet that he used to take you down. How else would Fey know about you and John? Or about your tattoos? The First knew about the baby. He has it out for John. Which means this isn’t about the Magus or balance to magic. It’s all about revenge, on John. The First used Fey to do his dirty work. He couldn’t get to you himself, so he made a loyal servant who could.

“You’re a puppet, you asshat!” you snap at Fey. “This baby isn’t who you think it is. You’re just being used.”

“We all are,” Fey says, spinning around to look you in the eye. “You’re only here to because the baby needs to live. But through your death, something beautiful will rise. The First of the Fallen has shown me the way. Your son with lead us into a truly magical age.”

“Dumb ass!” you yell. Your contraction is worse this time and you can’t hold back the scream of pain. There’s so much pressure you feel like your stomach is going to explode. You collapse onto your back to try to relieve some of the pain.

“Praise the birth of the Magus!” Fey chants, hands raised towards the ceiling. The cult starts to chant as well.

“This is not happening, this is not happening,” you mutter, clutching your stomach. “No, I will not give birth on a demonic altar. Don’t do it body. Baby, you stay where you are!” Breathing is difficult and you have to force yourself to remember how.

Fey takes a step towards you and his bracelet slithers off his wrist and into his hand, morphing into an athame.

Oh hell no.

You muster your remaining strength and as Fey is busy kneeling and chanting, you punch him in the throat. He drops the knife in surprise and you manage to grab Zed’s angel feather from around his neck. This time when Fey reaches for you, you lift the feather and he gets thrown back. The cult is still chanting, too lost in their shared delusion to realize what’s happening.

Fey lands heavily on his ass, but it doesn’t seem to deter him. You kick the knife to the side and prepare yourself for another attack, but just as he gets to his feet and takes a step towards you, a loud shot rings out over the cult’s prayer.

Fey barely has enough time to register the gaping hole in his chest before he drops to his knees. His wide eyes find yours and for the briefest moment, you actually feel sorry for him. Only that he was used to get revenge, and the feeling doesn’t last long. You watch him fall forward, dead before he hits the floor. That seems to shake the cult members out of their trances. They scream and begin to run. You hear more shots behind you, but you don’t have the energy to look.

With a cry of pain your arms give out and you fall onto your back, panting. John stands over you, shotgun aimed where Fey once stood. He’s pale, he’s shaking, his jaw is clenched and dammit if he doesn’t look fucking amazing.

“John,” you sob, reaching for him.

John slings your shotgun onto his back before dropping by your side. “I’m here, love. I’m here,” he says, pulling you close. “I’ve got you. Chas! Renee! How are the others?”

“They’re still breathing!” Renee calls back.

“John, Zed’s here too!” Chas says.

“Feather, Zed’s feather,” you pant, showing John what you’re holding.

“Chas, here!” John calls over his shoulder. He takes the feather from you and hands it to his best friend. Once that’s done, he helps you sit up. You lean heavily into him, watching with careful eyes as Chas returns the feather back to Zed.

Her skin returns to normal and the light comes back to her eyes. She slowly sits up, her wings stretching and growing back to their normal size. “Much better,” she says with a sigh of relief.

With Chas’s help, the angel gets to her feet, wings spread wide. You can feel her angelic powers wash over you and it makes you instantly relax. She holds her hand out to Ritchie and Anne Marie and the two sit up with twin groans of pain.

Then she’s at your side, her hand cupping your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she says with sadness. “I was supposed to protect both of you and I failed.”

“You did what you could,” you tell her. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Zed smiles and places a kiss on your forehead. She looks at John. “You better take care of them, John Constantine.”

John purses his lips, for once lacking a sassy retort or joke. “I will.” Zed smile widens and then she’s gone.

Another contraction comes and you tense, your body curling forward as the waves of pain wash over you. “Fuck,” you swear.

“Lola, what’s wrong?” John asks, pushing your hair back.

“Contractions,” you say through gritted teeth. “Really fucking big ones. The baby’s coming.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” John swears. He looks around wildly. “Annie, Annie what do we do?”

Recovered, Anne Marie gets to her feet and hurries over. She kneels down in front of you. “Lola, I need to see how far you’re dilated,” she says, reaching for the hem of your dress.

“Do it,” you nod with consent, leaning against John so she can push your dress out of the way. You look up at your lover. “Hey, babe.” You’re half laughing, half crying at this point, the rush of hormones and adrenaline, mixed with the pain of labor making your whole fucking situation seem ridiculously funny. In a not-really sort of way.

John lets out a half-hearted laugh as well. “Hi there, Lola,” he says. He looks down at your swollen stomach, eyebrows raised as he gives you a mocking smirk. “Something you wanna tell me, love?” Ah, there’s the sass you know and love.

“Nah,” you say, shaking your head. “May have put on some weight. Got kidnapped by a crazy cult. Oh, also, birthing your child. Possibly right at this second.”

“I can see that,” John says.

He reaches down towards your stomach, but his hand stops with hesitation. You take his hand and guide it to where your baby is squirming. He needs to feel your stomach at least once before she’s born. John inhales sharply and you see a small smile spread across his face.

“Your water hasn’t broken yet,” Anne Marie announces. “But you are around four centimeters, which means you’re in active labor. I’m going to need towels, water--”

“No, no, no, no,” you tell her, forcing yourself to fully sit up with John’s help. “There is a dead man over there, I’m on a creepy fucking altar, there are cult members watching. I’m not fucking giving birth here.”

“We may not have time to get to the hospital,” Anne Marie says, sharing a worried glance with John.

“I’ll take my chances,” you say. “I want out of this fucking place.”

“Chas, bring the car ‘round,” John orders, taking your shotgun off his back. “Ritchie, take this. You and Renee shoot anyone that even takes one step near us.” Ritchie takes the gun from John so he and Anne Marie can help you to your feet.

Now that their leader is dead, the cult members have either scattered or are cowering in the corner. You’re in far too much pain to give two shits, though you try to make a mental note to tell the police about this place. Or return at a later date to burn it down.

It’s difficult, but you can still walk. With John and Anne Marie’s support, you manage to get to the car where Chas is waiting. You, John, Anne Marie and Renee squeeze into the backseat, while Ritchie jumps into the passenger seat. If you thought you were uncomfortable before, it’s nothing compared to what you’re feeling now.

“We’re in, drive!” John bellows.

You can’t seem to get a handle on the pain. Every time you think it’s going to stop, a fresh wave comes. You try to hold in the screams, but that primal part of you kicks in and you holler at the top of your lungs. Everyone is clearly freaking out. Chas and Ritchie are arguing about what hospital is closest, while Renee and Anne Marie each try to help you through the pain.

There’s so much yelling and swearing, you can’t focus. John is the only quiet one. He holds you close, stroking your hair and letting you practically break his hand each time a contraction hits.

Chas is speeding like a son of a bitch. Unfortunately, the liquid splashing down your legs and onto the cab floor tells you that you’re running out of time. After about an hour or so, maybe more (honestly, you have no idea what time is. All you know is that the sun has gone down) the contractions start to come faster.

Now there is no relief in between. It’s wave after wave of intense pain that keeps building. “Pull over,” you gasp.

“Lola, we’re almost to the hospital,” John says. “Just hold on.”

“No, no I can’t,” you say shaking your head. “She's coming right now. I need to push. I’m not going to make it.”

“Yes you will, love.”

Anger takes over and you wrap John’s tie around your hand and yank him forward so his face is pressed to yours. “You listen to me, John fucking Constantine!” you snarl. “We have been in each other's lives for five years. We have literally been to Hell and back. We have defeated demons, angels, succubi, swamp monsters and werewolves. I was kidnapped for three months and almost sacrificed by a fucking cult. I will not give birth to our child in a fucking cab! Now, you will make Chas pull over or so help me I will kick your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit right for the rest of your life!”

John’s already nodding before you even finish threatening him. He looks out the window and you see recognition in his gaze, before another contraction forces your eyes shut. “Chas, pull over,” he says.

“John, the hospital--”

“We’re not going to make it, mate, now just pull over here!” John snaps.

The cab bumps and shakes as Chas goes off road. It’s only a minute, but it feels like years before the cab finally stops. John gets out of the car and he and Ritchie help you out. You hear Chas and Anne Marie go for the trunk while you’re led towards an old, rundown farmhouse.

You vaguely remember seeing the house before on the many trips leaving the Mill house. Your legs nearly give out, but you’re able to make to the front steps. Renee dodges past you with a bundle of blankets, which she lays out in the middle of the room.

John holds your hand tightly as you hobble up the steps to the house. “Ritchie, I need you to call an ambulance,” he urges. “Then I need you to walk the perimeter and put up any protection charm and spell you can think of to ward off evil spirits. Can you do that for me, mate?”

“I’m on it,” he nods, then he’s gone.

The main room is empty, but thankfully not as dirty as you would expect. “Renee, I need water,” you croak. Your throat is so dry, you can barely swallow.

“I’ll get it, sweetie. Be right back,” she says, and then she’s gone as well.

John helps you onto the blankets. He moves to sit behind you so you can collapse against his chest. “Oh god I’m dying,” you whine.

“No, no, you’re not,” John says soothingly. His arms come around you. “I’ve got you, love. I’ve got you.”

“You made it,” you tell him, with a happy sob.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, I made it,” he says. “I’m here.”

Renee returns with a bottle of water and unscrews the cap. She holds it to your lips and you down nearly half of it in one swig. The coolness feels amazing and suddenly you realize how incredibly burning hot you are. John must realize too because he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wets it with the rest of the water in the bottle. Pressing it to your forehead, he lets you grab his free hand and hold it tightly to your chest.

Anne Marie and Chas run in with more blankets and bottles of water. Chas crouches down next to his wife while Anne Marie kneels between your spread legs.

Her expression softens into a careful smile. “Lola, this is it,” she says. She rinses her hands with one of the bottles before she lifts your dress carefully. “Bend your knees a little...perfect. Now, I’m going to have to have you give me a big push.”

You feel like you’re suffocating and John helps you pull your dress off the rest of the way. To hell with shame. You’re about to give birth in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.

Despite what you told John, fear takes hold and you shake your head violently. “I can’t, I can’t do this,” you deny, tears running down your face. Your body is in a constant state of pain. Pain you’ve never felt before. Unbearable pain that makes you feel like you’re being ripped apart.

“Yes, yes you can, love,” John encourages. He hands the handkerchief to Renee so he can cradle you closer. He places a few kisses on your temple. “You are the strongest, most frustrating woman I’ve ever met. You can do this. I have faith in you.”

“On the next contraction, push,” Anne Marie orders.

So you do.

Everything is a blur after that. It’s like your body is on autopilot. All you can focus on is the feeling of John’s chest against your back and his hand in yours. Occasionally Renee passes the cold cloth across your forehead.

“John, she’s not breathing properly,” you vaguely hear Chas say. “Lola, honey, you need to remember to breathe.”

You try but it’s difficult. The pain becomes too much to bare. Through the haze of childbirth, you hear John’s voice in your ear. “In and out, love. Breathe with me. In and out,” he whispers before taking a deep breath. Shakily, you mimic him before giving another push.

“Her head is coming out,” Anne Marie exclaims excitedly. “You’re doing beautifully, Lola.”

“You’re doing so good, love,” John coos, holding your tighter. “You’re doing it.”

You are past the point of being able to answer. You’re too focused on your breathing and pushing through the next contraction. You don’t know how long you actually are pushing, but you manage to give one final push. It’s like a weight is being lifted off your chest as the sound of your daughter’s cries fill the abandoned house. You collapse against John.

“Is she--?” John begins.

“She’s perfect,” Anne Marie beams as she lifts the child to show you.

Through your tear filled eyes you see your daughter’s face for the first time. And just like that, everything clicks. It all makes sense. Everything in your life, everything you and John have been through together, has led to this one moment in time. Your hands are shaking as you reach for her, but stronger hands help guide your daughter...his daughter to your chest. Her skin touches yours and her cries immediately begin to subside. You feel wetness on your cheek and you realize John is crying. He kisses away his own tears.

“You did brilliant,” he whispers. “She’s beautiful.”

Anne Marie places a blanket over the both of you, while Chas and Renee step away to give you and John some space.

“Ambulance is on the way,” you hear Ritchie tell them from the front door.

Anne Marie asks for John’s knife, which he manages to give to her without jostling you too much. She uses it to cut the umbilical cord. You are too focused on your daughter to pay attention to Anne Marie taking care of the aftermath of your labor.

It’s not until she asks you a question that you come back to your surroundings. “What?” you ask.

“What’s her name?” Anne Marie repeats.

You smile, fingers running down your daughter’s plump cheek. You already know what you’re going to call her. Her name had come to you so easily in Heaven and it’s still with you now as you gaze into her wide eyes. “Mercury,” you say. “Her name is Mercury.”

“I’ll leave you two,” Anne Marie says to John.

It’s just you and John. You chance a look at him and his expression is difficult to read. He sees you watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Mercury?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.

You chuckle. “I don’t know, it’s just her name,” you say with a shrug. “By the way, I forgive you.”

“That’s great,” John says. “For what?”

You smile, looking back at the baby in your arms. “For bringing me back from Heaven,” you say. “I told you I’d never forgive you. But now, here with her really in my arms. Her _alive_. I forgive you. Thank you.”

John nudges your face with his nose and when you turn to him, he captures your lips in the gentlest kiss you think he’s ever given you. “No, love,” he sighs, gaze returning to the baby. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Coming Up Next:
> 
> Let Me Go (M) - Still recovering from the events with the Resurrection Crusade, you’re hospital bound for several days. John is noticeably absent and you can’t help but feel there’s something wrong. When you’re finally released, he explains what he’s been going through the last few months, and you’re forced to make the hardest decision of your life.


End file.
